A Yearning for Home
by Mornflower
Summary: WoodElf Challenge: Pick your Poison. He clutched at his chest and waited for the coughs to subside, hoping against hope that his fellow men had not heard him. Breathing heavily, Strider lay back down on his bedroll and tried to calm his racing heart.


**A Yearning for Home**

**By Mornflower**

**Rated:** PG-7 for some disturbing scenes

**Warnings:** Illness, some disturbing scenes

**Summary:** He clutched at his chest and waited for the coughs to subside, hoping against hope that his fellow men had not heard him. Breathing heavily, Aragorn lay back down on his bedroll and tried to calm his racing heart.

**Disclaimer:** I own none of the recognizable characters, races, or places—They all belong to J.R.R. Tolkien and New Line.

**Author's Note:** This is a one-shot written in response to **_The Wood-elf Challenge: Pick your poison_**. Some may find some parts of it disturbing since it deals with illness. If you are the queasy type, you may want to scan over some parts instead of all out reading them. This is also the one-shot that I promised to write two months ago. As I will be leaving for 3 weeks, I will not be able to update my other stories, but I will try to update as soon as I return. A big thank you to **_Aranna Undomiel_** for beta-ing this for me.

* * *

The world spun as his stomach heaved violently, trying to dispel the herb that was within his belly. Images shifted in and out of focus as he stumbled along the winding forest path, tripping and staggering his way slowly on towards his home. Memories of warm bed covers and soft pillows drove his mind and legs to cooperate in his attempts to keep moving in the general direction of the Elven lodgings.

Aragorn, son of Arathorn, tried to still the tremors that racked his body as a result of the fever that now burned inside of him. He needed to return home, return to his Ada, return to the only home he had known, return to the comfort that could be promised upon his homecoming. He knew it was necessary to go back home now more than ever. He had known that since the faint burning in his mouth had first begun. The concept was only enforced when a rash had appeared upon his skin and a sweat upon his brow.

Slowly, he continued along the wooded path towards Imladris, occasionally leaning against a tree as the last two days' events passed through his mind.

* * *

_The campfire burned with brightness akin to the light of the sun. Gathered around the blazing fire sat a group of haggard looking men with their meager meals. Food stocks dwindled and they had been forced to feast on the earth itself. For three hours, they had dug for edible roots and scavenged for nuts, berries, and herbs before returning to their camp to simmer their findings in water and broth. Now they all joined together in their merry makings around the warm flames. The next day they would go their separate ways, as Rangers often did, to return to what ever place they deemed their home. _

_Most were happy to leave the wild for a while and return to their wives and families, if they had them, but they would miss the sense of sovereignty and freedom that came with patrolling the Northern lands. They talked of their travels and told stories of the battles they had played a part in. Aragorn, known to most as Strider, told of the ways of the elves as only one who lived with them could. He told of the compassion and love which the fair beings showed every day towards their fellow elf. He told of the peace and light that the race seemed to radiate, which would calm even the most disturbed of spirits. The men fell victim to the exciting stories that Aragorn weaved whilst eating his evening meal, even so that their own grew cold while they listened, not daring to move at all for fear of missing some detail in the marvelous tale. _

_And so it went, each telling their own share of exciting accounts of events of the past until the very dead of night was upon them and dawn not but a few hours away. The story telling would continue if not for Aragorn suggesting that they get at least some rest for their journeys on the morrow. The men followed his example and set guard before settling down on their bedrolls to catch some shut eye.

* * *

_

Pushing himself off yet another tree, Aragorn forced himself to move onward despite the severe itch and burn that the rash on his skin caused. His throat was parched, but he had no water for he did not believe that he would need as much when he left the camp. His home was only twelve hours away by foot and there were many streams along the way, but with his feverish mind, he had not been able to register that he needed water.

Tripping over another root and skinning the palms of his hands in the fall, the man's thoughts turned once again to how he had acquired the illness that now plagued him.

* * *

_Something had awoken him during the wee hours of the morning. The sun just barely began to peak its fiery mass above the curve of the earth. It was much too early for anyone to be up and about, yet something had woken Aragorn. His brow furrowed as he tried to remember what had disturbed him from his slumber. Not sensing anything amiss, the Dunèdain rolled over and tried to go back to sleep. _

_Almost as soon as he closed his eyes, he felt it again, a slight burn in his throat, like the beginnings of a cold. Swallowing, the human noticed that his throat felt tight and burned with a new fury. Quickly, he grabbed the water bladder from where it was secured to his pack and raised it to his lips. The water had barely touched his parched throat when a terrible bout of coughing erupted in his chest. Aragorn bent forward, spluttering water all over his bedroll as he coughed._

_He clutched at his chest and waited for the coughs to subside, hoping against hope that his fellow men had not heard him. Breathing heavily, Strider lay back down on his bedroll and tried to calm his racing heart. Just as he started to drift into slumber, his stomach churned violently, warning him to run to the bushes._

_Before long, he felt arms wrap around his middle in attempts to help support him as his stomach heaved. The man beside him spoke words of comfort as the other expelled the content of his stomach. When the dry heaves had subsided, a wet cloth was offered to him along with his water skin to wash out his mouth. Aragorn found as he grasped the water bladder that his hands shook, as did the rest of his body. They were tremors that he could not suppress, no matter how strong his will. _

_Gently, the man who supported him whilst he was sick hoisted him to his feet and led him to his bedroll. Aragorn murmured his thanks to his fellow Ranger before letting his eyelids slide shut and sleep claim him. _

_The silence of the camp was interrupted by the soothing sound of the man murmuring a word to his sick companion, "Sleep."

* * *

_

Aragorn stumbled upon his path and wiped the sweat from his brow before it could drip down into his eyes and blur his vision further. He was only about an hour away from his destination where his father would help him through this illness. A headache pounded behind his skull, making him wish even harder that he was already in his sleeping chambers, being ordered to drink Elrond's healing tea.

Thunder cracked overhead as the Ranger made his way onward. Rain began to poor from the clouds with such force that it soaked the man in mere minutes. Remarkably, Strider did not curse the rain as he would normally for it calmed the burn and itch of the rash on his skin. Though the cold rain increased the shivering that his body had acquired, it succeeded in soothing the feverish heat that threatened to consume him.

Aragorn stopped once again for a short rest, giving his body a chance to recuperate slightly before continuing the last leg of his journey home. He turned his face towards the sky and his thoughts to the place where he had become ill.

* * *

_When he had awoken the next morning, a terrible itch had spread itself across his arms and stomach. Rolling up his sleeve and lifting his tunic, Strider revealed the red puff rash to his eyes. With a sigh he reached into his pack and pulled out a small jar filled with a milky white ointment that would hopefully soothe the itching sensation. The salve was usually used for reducing the effects of bug bites and stings, but it could be used for rashes also. _

_Groaning slightly at the discomfort that it created, Aragorn quickly finished his task before changing his clothing, donning on a silky soft undershirt and a sleeveless tunic. That done, the man stood and began to walk towards the rest of the men who were packing up the main portion of their camp; all the while ignoring the nausea that churned in his stomach. _

_The Ranger that had assisted him the night before approached him and asked how he was feeling. Stubbornly, Aragorn said he was well but the man knew otherwise. No human could be up most the night sick in the bush and trembling as if cold and feel fine the next morning. The Ranger offered Strider some way bread from his pack. At the mere thought of food, the younger man's stomach flipped and he hastily declined. _

_Within the hour, the camp was packed and the Rangers said their goodbyes before each going their separate ways. Aragorn tromped through the forest trying to figure out what had made him ill. Mentally, he reviewed everywhere he had been in the last two months that involved people who may have been ill. He could not remember anywhere where a person was sick. After thinking for some time about his illness, an answer snaked its way into his thoughts: an herb from the night before.

* * *

_

The rain slowed to a drizzle as the wearied Ranger approached the cobble stone path that would lead to the front gate of Imladris, his home. A content sigh escaped his lips and the man stood straighter and made his way closer to his father's residence, though he swayed slightly while walking. It would not be too long until his wish was complete and his body was resting in his bed.

As quietly as possible, Aragorn stumbled up the stairs to the halls that would lead him to his bed chamber. He inhaled deeply and surrendered to the smell that always accompanied his thoughts of home, of family. It was very early, so early that even the elves were not awake yet and Aragorn did not see the need of bothering his Ada in his slumber so he walked past the door which would open to the bed chamber of Elrond the Half-Elven, Lord of Imladris and made his way to his own.

Passing the library the man heard a soft call.

"Ion nin, you are home."

Though he thought his father to be asleep, Aragorn peaked his head into the library to see his Adar walking towards him, arms open wide to embrace his adopted son. Blinking stupidly, Estel straightened his back and walked towards him, feeling safe in his warm embrace.

Elrond laid his cheek against his son's curly mane of hair and almost immediately felt the heat that radiated from him. He held his son out at arms length to have a proper look at him, noting his pale features and the dark circles around his eyes.

"You are not well, ion nin."

"No I am not, Ada," Estel answered, thinking the previous statement was very obvious.

"Explain."

The human sighed before following his father to one of the couches in the library to sit and "chat" about his last adventure.

"We scavenged for herbs, nuts, and berries for our last meal the night before and I had an allergic reaction to something." The answer was simple, a relief to Elrond that it was not a form of illness that spread from man to man.

Elrond saw the way that his son's eyes drooped and quietly lead the sick man to his own chambers, helping him get situated in his bed. The elf checked the rash and sores on his son's arms before rubbing them with soothing salve and placed a bucket near his bed just in case, then pulled up an overstuffed chair to the edge of the bed and prepared to wait the sickness out with his son. The man smiled at the warmth of his bedcovers and his father's love. This truly was the compassion and care that the Ranger had tried to describe in his stories around the campfire. This was the feeling that he longed for every time he was away with the Rangers. This was the love that laced every act of his life. This was it, this was home.

**End**


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